Her erratic breathing stopped altogether. Her skin sizzled where it was in contact with his.
‘I don’t believe these pretty hands have ever known hard work.’ He turned her hand over and the index finger of his free hand made circles in the centre of her palm.
It tickled and she wanted to pull it away but at the same time…at the same time…the rest of her started to—
Want.
More circles teased.
Her fingers quivered in his as she shuddered in a wisp of air.
A smile softened his mouth. The kind of smile that he’d never turned on her before—one that both tempted and made her nervous. It deepened, becoming the kind of smile that would have a woman on a bed and spread in seconds.
Oh, no. She couldn’t let him do this—she couldn’t fall again just like that…
‘Hands like these are all about pleasure.’ He walked two fingers even more lightly across her palm and then lifted his head to catch her wide-eyed, mesmerised gaze on the full. ‘Aren’t they, Amanda?’
Chapter Two
AMANDA curled her fingers into a fist and jerked it free of Jared’s, burning with embarrassment. And what made it worse was her suspicion that he knew that embarrassment wasn’t all she was burning with. All grown-up maturity and attempts at politeness escaped her. She glared at him. Breathing again. Hating the effect he had on her—the effect he’d always had—smile or not.
But he, the swine, was laughing. Those dark, bottomless, devilish eyes were creased at the corners. She daren’t look at his mouth. She daren’t…but her eyes slid and then she did. Oh, it was that smile again, only now it was tainted with a touch of sarcasm.
This was just too humiliating. To bump into the man who had been the cause of so much heartache and discover he still could make the world tilt with just a look?
‘Will you excuse me, Jared? I have some work to get on with.’ Cool practicality could be her only defence. She’d deal with her hormones later.
‘Really, Amanda?’
‘Actually yes. Contrary to what you may think, I’m not independently wealthy and do actually have to earn money to be able to eat.’
‘But not at this hour surely?’
She glanced at her watch. A little after nine and it meant that there was still about an hour of this hellish flight to go. She stared at the laptop screen, wishing she could disappear into it like in some weird sci-fi movie.
‘You know you were always beautiful, Amanda, but you’re even more beautiful now.’ He sounded coolly detached, as if he were discussing the weather.
‘Do you think?’ She almost managed a disinterested inflexion but choked on the last word and then was unable to stop herself looking at him again.
He took the opportunity to give her another searing once-over.
‘Very much. A little pale, perhaps a bit thin, it’s hard to see under that coat, but your cheekbones are a little gaunt. Been burning the candle?’
Not in the way he meant. While there had been many sleepless nights, not one of them had been spent partying or clubbing or indulging in wild, hedonistic sex. His gaze lifted as that last option popped into her head, and his knowing smile came slow.
‘As I said, I’ve been busy.’ She turned back to the screen, back to work, back to oblivion—please.
He sat angled side on, obviously watching her, waiting. In the end she couldn’t resist. What he’d said…had he really thought she was beautiful back then? If that was the case, then why had he done it?
She gave up the mental gymnastics and looked at him, decided to brazen it out. ‘You had your chance.’
‘Meaning I won’t get another?’ His eyes were all daring now.
She looked straight into them, cool as she could. ‘No.’
His smile curved into a gentle crescent—like a stretch of sand along a beautiful beach that tempted you to race across it and dive in. ‘Your mouth says one thing, your body another.’
‘Oh, please.’ Sarcasm flooded from her that time. ‘You think that line’s going to get you anything but a knock-back?’
‘Too close to the truth?’
‘Too much male chauvinist.’
‘Tell me no and I’ll listen. Whether you mean it or not.’ He leaned closer to her, holding her gaze with his as he spoke soft and slow. ‘I’ve never needed to pressure a woman. Usually they come on to me.’
A second passed before Amanda blinked. Finally absorbing what he’d said…what he’d meant…what he was reminding her of…
‘I was young.’ She couldn’t cover the wobble in her voice.
‘You’re not so young now.’
For a long second she fought the urge to tip her coffee over him. Instead she lifted the cup with trembling fingers, clamped them round the plastic.
‘Ask me again,’ he murmured. ‘The answer might be different this time.’
She forced herself to take a deep sip instead, not caring how scorching the wretched stuff still was—it was nothing on the way her insides were boiling already.
‘It wouldn’t take much to get me to say yes.’
She nearly spat the coffee out all over him. ‘Dream on, Don Juan.’
He laughed then. A deep chuckle that was so rude, so outrageous and so damn genuine. ‘Is that it?’ He shook his head, looking both sorrowful and scornful. ‘So refined, Amanda. What happened to that wilful, take-what-she-wants girl?’
And then she got it. He was teasing her—just winding her up. He didn’t mean a word of it and had played her for the fool she was. The more polite she’d got, the more impolite he’d got, until she snapped and he laughed. And he’d known exactly the angle to take…her attraction to him.
Humiliation times fifty.
Did he do this to every woman? She was certain he could be charming if he wanted—but women would fall at his feet even if he wasn’t. Just as she had. Yet here he was flying back from a holiday solo—clearly there was no wife. Was there really no lover?
But, of course, she gave herself a mental slap, there’d be more than one lover.
‘Have you been to Ashburton recently?’ If he was determined to talk, she’d control the topic and from now on it would be safe.
‘Not for nine years, seven months.’
Satisfaction flashed through her like wildfire. So he knew exactly how long it had been. He’d left town the week of her birthday. She hadn’t seen him again since that night.
‘Why not?’ She genuinely wanted to know.
He turned, seeming to study the safety-belt sign in front of them, and when he turned back his eyes were bland. ‘No reason to.’
No person. No family. No love.
She’d longed to give him love. She and the rest of the female population. Angry Jared James, whose mother had left him and whose father had boozed so much he was barely cognisant and certainly not ‘there’ for his son. Alone and isolated and gorgeous.
‘Not even curiosity?’
‘What could there possibly be to be curious about?’ His answer was curt.
‘Quite.’ Determined not to feel wounded at the question, she focused on feeling pleased because his lack of interest meant it more than likely that he wouldn’t know about her grandfather. Not many people did, but in a small town it was hard to keep secrets—especially when he’d been such a public figure. But he deserved dignity and Amanda was working harder than she’d ever worked in her life to try to ensure that he got it. And for some reason it was important to her that Jared not think badly of Grandfather—he could think what he liked about her, but not the old man.
She turned back to her screen. Read the same sentence five times over before getting the gist of it and trying to move on to the next. But it was hopeless. She might as well tinker with colours and formatting.
The pitch was at ten a.m. tomorrow and it was vital they win it. The consultancy had been hit hard by changes in the economic climate and was teetering on the brink of closure. But if they could secure this contract it could be enough to see
them through and they could build on it. It seemed to be her luck that when she’d finally landed a well paid job in the big city, it was far from certain. And she needed certainty—her grandfather was counting on her.
But now, with her concentration shot, she knew she was in for a long night of uncomfortable memories mixed with nerves and adrenalin. She might as well pop the migraine pills already. Except she couldn’t possibly be woozy tomorrow.
Rats. Why did Jared James have to be on this flight tonight?
Jared sat back as not so deep inside him irritation duelled with amusement. Eventually amusement got the upper hand. It took a while though and its dominance was precarious. She’d looked so cucumber fresh when she’d appeared—despite the thick wool coat. Only the hint of a flush had touched those pale cheeks when she’d walked on board, blanking the passengers. Not even a small smile of apology or embarrassment sent in their direction. Nothing.
Amanda Winchester. Owned the world and acted like it. She was everything he wasn’t, and all those years ago she’d had everything he hadn’t. Money, leisure and freedom, whereas he’d had nothing, worked 24/7 and been imprisoned by the broken background from hell.
He’d changed though. Moved up in the world. Indeed here he was sitting in her class—he’d earned the right. But a sudden flash of discomfort made him stretch and shift in his seat. Despite being able to pay the fare a zillion times over, seeing her brought that old feeling back: the desperation to control, to escape, to succeed, and to have—not just material things. And with it came the bitterness that he’d felt towards her—back then she’d symbolised all he’d lacked and been everything he’d wanted.
He stared at her, unable to look away. She hadn’t changed. Still spoilt. Still selfish. Oh, sure, now she had the ice-princess thing going on the surface. All polite poise and butter-wouldn’t-melt-ish. But the fact was he knew what she was really like and her behaviour proved it. What Amanda wanted, Amanda got—even if it meant two hundred people got held up because of her.
An over-indulged minx and damn if she didn’t still stir his blood—more so now, incredibly enough. He’d never forgotten the sight of her in that get-up…her pale skin had seemed luminous next to the black silk. Where on earth had she got it from? Mail order?
Nine years, seven months rolled away just like that and he was hit hard in the groin by a need that had never been indulged—and the accompanying frustration because she’d been forbidden. He gritted his teeth at the memory and then forced relaxation as he tried to think—reminding himself it was a long time ago and he was no longer the less-than-nothing youth he’d been back then.
In fact, he mused as he sucked in a breath, it might be all right to want her now. One night with Amanda Winchester wasn’t necessarily taboo—not any more. Not now they were both out of that town and all grown up. That thought doused the discomfort and roused the hunter in him.
So as she oh-so-determinedly ignored him he cast his eyes over her screen. Not caring about how rude he was—in fact he was doing it deliberately, wanting to annoy her into betraying herself again. She was a spoilt, demanding brat all the way. She’d tried testing her new-grown claws on him all those years ago, but he bet she’d be one hell of a vixen now. And yes, if she asked again, his answer would be very different. The wilful, wanting teen would translate into a wild, wanting woman. Hadn’t he just caught a glimpse of it in her eyes? Hadn’t he been unable to resist touching her—just a little, to see if that spark would flare? And it had. How would she burn if he touched her where he really wanted to?
He blinked to refocus his eyes from the internal fantasy that was going to get him very uncomfortable if he didn’t shut it down. Too long since he’d had a lay—that was the problem. As he shifted in his seat again he saw what it was she was working on.
Hell, no way!
He took a moment to regulate his reaction and then asked, ‘So what do you do to earn money to eat, Amanda?’
‘I’m in advertising.’
He smothered another snort. Of course she was. She could sell ice to an Inuit, had that knack of getting people to say yes. But not him. Not unless he controlled the situation.
‘Which agency?’ He figured it’d be one of the top two.
‘Synergy.’
He clamped his jaw to stop it falling open. It was the wild card he’d selected. By far the smallest of the three agencies he’d shortlisted for the pitch, and, from what he’d heard on the grapevine, the one most in need of securing the contract tomorrow.
He was glad he’d found out. Forewarned meant forearmed and now he had the time to plan his strategy. No way could he work with her, but at least he was spared the shock of having her walk into his office tomorrow.
He took a sidelong glance at her coolly remote expression. He was not gentleman enough to give her warning. But then, he’d never pretended to be a gentleman. In fact, he spent the rest of the flight trying to suppress the most ungentlemanly thoughts.
As the plane descended he watched the way she was gripping the arm rest between them and figured it wasn’t worth fighting her for it. ‘Don’t you like flying, Amanda?’
‘Not much.’ Her lips barely moved as she answered.
‘Don’t like being out of control, huh?’ The almost admission of a weakness amused him.
‘I have a strong self-preservation instinct.’
He chuckled. A strong selfish instinct, more like. Not to mention lazy. He would never forget the tone she’d used to order him around on her grandfather’s farm and the way she’d sat at a distance with such indolence and watched him carry out her wishes.
Finally they landed and the second the seat-belt sign was switched off she was standing, bags in hand—arrogantly asserting her priority status without even being conscious of it. Her sense of entitlement was so ingrained. Jared counted to ten as he waited behind her while the stewards opened the doors. Her high heeled boots gave her an extra inch, meaning the top of her head made it to his mouth. He breathed in, caught the gentle scent of her shampoo, and his flare of anger became a flare of something else.
The first thing he’d do would be to free her hair from those clips—see if it was as long and golden as it had been back then. She’d always worn it loose—he’d seen it, like a flag heralding her arrival, and he’d known not to look. She’d been out of bounds but she’d pushed it. She wasn’t out of bounds now.
He shortened his stride to stay alongside her as they walked along the corridors. She pushed buttons on her mobile and so did he. He had five messages. All of them could wait. It seemed she had none—or at least none urgent enough to warrant immediate attention. They got to the ground floor and the signs pointing to the luggage carousels. He, like she, ignored them and headed straight for the exit.
‘Don’t you have baggage to collect? Not your snowboard?’ she asked.
‘I like to travel light.’ Habit from the old days, he figured. When he’d finally got out of Ashburton he’d taken almost nothing with him. Nothing but a bunch of memories—and most of them were bad. It wasn’t that he didn’t have the material possessions now—if anything he’d have to admit he had too many. So he kept his snowboarding gear and a complete wardrobe at his holiday home in Queenstown.
It was an odd relief to see that she was disconcerted by his presence—to know that he affected her too, just as she did him. Not that he’d let her know it.
Oh, yes, despite her polite façade it was as obvious as anything that she wanted him to go. Just to be perverse, he stayed close. She was slowing now as they reached the exit. But there was no one to meet her. No boyfriend waiting at the gate to pull her close and kiss her like crazy.
He shouldn’t care, but he was pleased about that too. No rings on her fingers, no calls on her mobile. They went through the automatic doors together. He expected to see her dive straight into the nearest taxi but instead she paused.
‘Lovely to see you again, Jared.’
Lovely? Oh, sure, like she really thought that. Why co
uldn’t she be honest about it?
‘It was interesting seeing you too, Amanda,’ he said casually. ‘Who knows? Maybe we’ll see each other again soon.’
She gave a plastic smile, turned and walked. Fast.
He watched her for a moment, appreciating the neat ankles and slim calves as her legs clipped along. He wished he could see more of her. She’d had long, slim legs as a girl—damn the wool coat. He forced his head to turn away, figuring she must have her car parked in the long-stay area.
He headed to the short-stay building and got into his car. It felt good to be back and now he had some fun to look forward to. He was going to enjoy seeing her perform tomorrow. Pulling out of the building, he looped round and caught sight of her—waiting for the bus service? No way. He’d pulled over before it hit that it could be a bad idea—not tonight. Maybe after tomorrow.
But the words popped out regardless. ‘Can I give you a lift somewhere?’ What the hell was she doing at a bus stop anyway?
Her gaze was cool as ever. Those blue eyes lancing through him like beams of dry ice—burning cold. ‘Thank you very much, Jared, but I’m OK.’
He stared hard at her. Under the light from the streetlamp above the shadows under her eyes seemed more pronounced. So did the shadows in them. She looked slim. She looked pale. She looked tired. And suddenly he wondered whether she really was OK.
‘It’s winter and it’s dark.’ Wasn’t that good enough reason to say yes?
She glanced down the street as if praying the bus would suddenly come into view. Her reluctance made his irritation resurge. So it was him that wasn’t good enough.
‘Who am I?’ he growled. ‘The big bad wolf?’
‘Of course.’ Her chin tilted. ‘You know you are, Jared.’
Chapter Three
WOLF or not, Amanda should have taken up Jared’s offer of a ride. She’d seen him slide into the sleek black sedan that had been parked in a priority space and knew it would be the ultimate in comfort on wheels. Not some low-to-the-ground flashy sports car—that would be too small for legs the length of Jared’s. He was a big, strong man and he had the equivalent in a motoring machine. But she’d refused—cutting off her nose to spite her face, as it turned out. The bus had been late and had then broken down on the side of the motorway, delaying her even further. It had been almost midnight before she’d got back to her room and, as she’d predicted, sleep had been elusive, brief and peppered with memories and dreams she wished she could forget.
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